Long Hot headed Poems
Long Hot headed Poems. Below are the most popular long Hot headed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hot headed poems by poem length and keyword.
Every single time we fight, the honesty seems to kill him,
He would rather turn his back to it than to humbly admit them,
He will search up every justifiable cause to make him look like the victim,
And then takes absolutely no responsibility for his actions when they hit him,
When out of love the truth comes out, he points his finger to blame,
As if I stole something precious to him, but he forgets he gave it away,
And then I sit and ponder, why in the world he would give his heart to me,
If when every time I tell him the truth to protect him, than I'm the enemy,
Can't he see what it is he's doing as he throws this love away,
And yet every time he's down in the dumps, he comes back to me again,
And every time he ventures back and wants an honest opinion,
I pray God gives me the words to say with an open heart and a ton of patience,
He's got a hot headed temper that drives me up The wall,
But I love him so much, I let him blow off steam, and wait for him to get calm,
I can stare straight into his eyes and say I love you any way,
Sometimes he even gets mad at me when I remain calm, but my love for him will never change.
Shoot! Nothing like killing spree to bookend August 2019!
The latest homicide,
where gunman(men) slew
dirty deed done dirt cheap
half dozen innocent people drew
minimal horrific gasps, now a new
month (September two
thousand nineteen)
where goldenrods yellow
with morning dew
encompassing human zoo
welcomes unsuspecting killer(s) true
to form - predictably
will undertake to fire bullet(s)
setting calibrating counting queue
as month nine allows brisk business
bereaved will final adieu,
whether gentile nor Jew,
perhaps including
child named Caillou
instantaneously slain, who
knew
not what felled them
engrossed amidst social ballyhoo
ex post facto registering grievous hue
pallbearers accentuating somber view
eclipsing most recent prior massacres
similar to previous you
ululations yesterday's sorrows
without handy dandy blue's clue
motive explaining
cold blooded slaughter
unsurprising discovery
firearms Jane/ John Q.
Public kept stashed loaded, deployed...
guns up the kazoo
cocked, gauged, primed...
for unleaded opportunity
to unleash barrage
invariable generating hullabaloo
to curb bloody violence
trumpeting predictable brew
ha ha alloyed against National
Rifle Association almighty
Republican supported lobbyist crew
versus increased uproar
protesters chorus nearly few
tile opposition pitted grand Poobah
despite alarming statistics shew
plus increasing fresh gravesites dug
amidst freshly mowed fescue
attesting to wanton shell shocked
headlines indiscriminate brew
tilly assaulting sensibilities
without rhyme nor reason
yet, yours truly doth boo
leave rampant hatred
directly linkedin to
"FAKE" commander in chief
whose rabid vitriol hue
man fountainhead few
ming and frothing
lathers up right wing supremacists
greenlighting smoldering new
bile radicals hot headed
volatile mindset whereby
self anointed anarchistic Guru
possibly fuels global warming
evidenced by displaced Eskimos
flooding courtesy melting igloo!
Hidden under crop circle
resembling an ampersand
hides sheathed silo - obscured,
said symbol adorned every armband
of national socialist, yet weapons
of mass destruction) bland
lee, blatantly ignored global pact
prepared from this once (bajillion
years ago) geologic bottomland
repurposed for a bomb bin able
(made in good ole US of A) brand
to release payload
upon given command
i.e. at moments notice,
the notorious brigand
usurped entire communications broadband
to stow and let loose by,
thee once upon a time pokey cowhand,
now chief of state tyrant,
sans military industrial complex edifice
where deadly warheads demand
did and trumpeted by "FAKE EVIL"
apprentice madly (ad libbing)
gesticulating, & expostulating to DISBAND
at once - to no effect
falling on deaf ears
as Doomsday Clock rhythmically
minutely gourmandises
cannibalizing entire webbed
world, whose former slender
(now stubby) baby grand
piano playing butter fingers
primed to press miniature
Taj Mahal shaped hand,...
(now a pause for infowars
commercial identification about Homeland
security threatened by migrant husband
and wife, especially terror unleashed
from baby, whose hood
loom doth not expand
much taller than kickstand),
Regular noteworthy poetic program resumes:
...but biological chattering multiplicand
the fiercest most critical operand
linkedin with scheme
asper deadly retaliatory reprimand
against leader of free world,
a hot headed note tory us
donning wig by handmaiden Shetland
knitwear, which Total Mortal Kombat
every man, woman and will soon understand!
KA-BOOM! Into a bajillion
(to the power of Googleplex)
goes civilization and discontents,
and since World War II
accursed with self destructive hex
hmm...mebbe terrestrial for
another species similar to T-Rex.
November 6th 2018 - election day
Later today after
all votes get cast
post final countdown,
the winning candidates
ought to be known
way before break fast
cometh on the lanced
morrow (for champions),
nonetheless
my fingers and toes crossed,
that those donned diametrically
opposed to establishmentarian
(reed conservative
buttoned down
MAGA stalwarts) deemed
more dangerous than
beastie boys, or
foo fighting, Outkast
sans, these progressive forward
thinking Democratic activists
(purportedly threatening
gerrymandered territory,
where white Anglo Saxon
Protestant hegemony dominates
status quo regarding
dhow ting Thomas Nast
tee Donkeys as
hashtagged by Trump),
I pray these true
purring blue state
representatives clinch,
the majority to oust vast
Republican politicians cowed,
demeaned, and excoriated
for NOT fawning
prince supple lee,
nor paying expected
obeisance as mealy
mouth sycophants, that she
push hilly accede toward
belligerent, execrable,
and incriminating, nee
Machiavellian hot headed,
quasi coiffed,
donned, and puffed que
hair raising bully,
whose vindictive
uber lyft tartly tinged
tongue lashing,
they risk acerbic
punitive un re
lent ting vitriol stemming
from recalcitrance determined
by the fuhrer wannabe
wool shear lee be silenced
unless that bigoted,
"FAKE" man hat
tinned unabashed, unhinged,
and unruly
villainous president we
the village people nominated
to bulldoze zee
American free
dumbs, now made irrelevant!
Perhaps Dr. Smith was misunderstood…
Sciatica got the goat of the stowaway.
Don’t be fooled, his intentions were not good.
He’d shield himself in cowardly betray.
Courageous Will and no nonsense robot -
Dr. Smith would cower behind and scream.
This family Robinson knows what’s what.
Most of them will save the man with a scheme.
Hot-headed Don, longs to disarm the doc.
Poor Dr. Smith! Poor Dr. Zachary Smith!
His back aches. Why give his body a shock?
To dig his own grave? Kid’s missing, been with
him (in trouble). Mums, “Oh, the pain! The pain!”*
Doc briefly consults his own stethoscope,
checks his heart - he’s not completely insane.
Save face or hang himself with his own rope?
Meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
Way high up on the upper most branch
Not afraid of heights but why take a chance
I fail to see why they're living up there
They don't have a bed, they don't have a chair
Must be uncomfortable and hard on the bum
Hope they're not bothered by splinters, by gum
These guys are strange, they're nincompoops
They've never liked living in community groups
Independent old souls most all of their lives
Some call 'em snobby, these guys they deride
Society is made up of all different trolls
Some are hot headed with holes in their souls
Some are real happy, like those guys the best
Sure happy I got that stuff off of my chest
Meet Tweedle Dum and old Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
If you guys want my opinion and advice
Get the hell down here and I won't tell you twice
© Jack Ellison 2013
Dead end jobs,
We all got those,
The ones that hurt your feet
And the bottom of your souls,
Customers complain ***** and moan,
For items that have been long gone,
Get hot headed when their sizes are not in,
We have to stand and hold in our screams,
Keep our cool, when really we just want to say,
Hey why don't you walk in my shoes If it just for a day,
Just for a while maybe you'll see,
We got more problems then just your sizes,
Come on jump in my shoes, I be happy to do it for you,
To feel a day with no pain,
Maybe to smile truly stunning, then this faked smile,
So before you moan about all the silly stuff,
Take a look at the staff,
Some are hiding most pain,
In shed of moaning why don't you say,
Hey are you okay.
Written by Davina Browne
25 / 01 / 15
The magazine cover page had a picture
Strange,
Out of the norm.
All those expositions of creative writing
are not pure and divine, nor sober as well.
A hypothetical extravaganza of law-breaker laws.
There is no validity of empty or full glass
No chance of any logical input , there.
Breaking that glass introduces the possibility
Ultimate materialization of the ulterior climax
Little to do with a softer pencil mark
No way to erase that either.
Permanent stains, long-lasting, durable.
Sophist hallucination of a strange life
One cannot deny anything through escapism
Thinking aloud, Thinking a lot.
But then, why me?
I am just nobody
With a sky darkened with ages of improbable fall out.
Perhaps, there is not much left
But to be red through emotions,
red like blood. Red, a hot-headed color.
My meager plate gets lost with
innumerable calculations of priorities...
and the room floor with hypothetical extenuations
everything, everywhere.
A series of happenings of world with no far-reaching continuity
A groaning pain of a hopeless night, and a day too.
Thinking aloud, thinking a lot.
Meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they lived in a tree
Way up high on the upper most branch
Not afraid of heights but why take a chance
I fail to see why they're living up there
They don't have a bed, they don't have a chair
Must be uncomfortable and hard on the bum
Hope they're not bothered by splinters, by gum
These guys are strange, they're nincompoops
They've never liked living in community groups
Independent old souls most all of their lives
Some call 'em snobby, these guys they deride
Society is made up of all different trolls
Some are hot headed with holes in their souls
Some are real happy, like those guys the best
Sure happy I got that stuff off of my chest
Meet Tweedle Dum and old Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
If you want my opinion and very sage advice
Get the hell down I won't tell you twice
The choice is yours to make your path,
To claim your destiny,
To claim in hope, in love, in wrath
The you you want to be.
Claim the traits that you desire,
The ones you wish to see.
You must be claimed, you must aspire
To be unchained and free.
The power’s yours to make your fate;
The path is up to you.
Each day you’re given a clean slate
To do what you must do.
Claim the name you wish you had
Or the name you were born to.
Be angry, hungry, sane, or mad,
As long as it is true.
As long as you are hungry for
The life you wish to make,
That life is yours. Open the door,
Own every last mistake,
For they are yours and you should own
The roads you have to take.
Claim the flesh and claim the bone,
Claim both the real and fake.
Your fate is yours, make up your mind;
Be strong, be true, be brave!
Be weak, be false, be harsh, be kind,
Or always be a slave
To wishes that you had done else
Than given what you gave.
Live true to you and your own self,
And then yourself you’ll save.
Claim everything, both dark and light,
Claim bad along with good,
Choose peace and calm and choose to fight,
Choose what you wish you could.
Choose defiance, choose despair,
Be heard and understood!
Be a human extraordinaire!
Do what you think you should.
The world will tell you, "Choose a side!"
But dark or light or else,
We’re never one, but four or five;
Never just one is felt.
Hot headed, medium, or cooled,
Whether holding or held,
Don’t listen to them; don’t be fooled.
You have to claim yourself.